


Drowning

by Kanceir



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 14:53:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2551631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanceir/pseuds/Kanceir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was drowning in the rivers he cried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drowning

  " _Misaki_."

  " _Shut up_."

  Yata thrusted forward harshly, drawing another cry from the flushed raven below him. Saruhiko's fingers gripped the sheets, the dribble that escaped from their last heated kiss staining the pillow below him. He didn't even attempt to reign in his voice, letting Yata's name ring out in an array of other noises, as well. Yata had gotten better at controlling his own voice since the first time they'd done this, and that saddened Saruhiko, but the strained breath and occasional grunt was enough to satisfy him that Yata was pleasured enough to _have_ to control his sounds. It was almost as good as when he'd moaned with every thrust.

  Of course the first time they'd done it, Saruhiko had topped, and that had been the last of that. Once Yata knew him in bed he had no problem taking control, and damn if it wasn't hot as hell to be pinned against the wall, or thrown onto the bed, or the plethora of other aggressive initiations Yata was so clever at coming up with. He loved it when Yata would grab his hair and give him _orders_ and not requests, when he would squeeze tightly to stop him from coming until he was ready, when on the rare occasions Yata let Saruhiko look at him as he took him again and again and again. It gave him plenty to content himself with during the weeks that would go by and they wouldn't see each other. Those weeks were the worst for Saruhiko, like withdrawal from a drug that had practically become his life source at this point.

  Because these times were the only times Saruhiko could be with Misaki. These were the only times he could drop his spiteful facade and let himself go, leaving Misaki believing he only enjoyed it for the sex. In reality it was the best substitute for what Saruhiko couldn't have — Misaki's love. So he would take his hate and all the torturous pleasure that came along with it, and consume it into his very core to let it fester and rot away his mind with the aftermath.

  Misaki's thrusts became harder and more irregular, hands gripping thin, narrow hips to the point of bruising as he pulled them back again and again. The entire time he had neglected Saruhiko's erection, and while he was ready to beg for attention he felt as if he might just come without any stimulation to it at all. Tonight had been particularly heated for whatever reason — hickies amoungst bite marks all over his skin, swollen lips, what was sure to become hand-shaped bruises on his hips. Saruhiko had been in pure, agonizing bliss the entire time, all the while stealing glances at those lustful amber eyes, burning with hatred and an underlying revulsion at what they were doing. But that didn't stop his groan as he leaned forward, spilling every bit of his seed deep within Saruhiko, who gave a strangled moan beneath him. His member still lay painfully erect as Misaki took his time gathering his breath above him, hot pants batting his ear and raising goosebumps all along his arms.

  Saruhiko gave a small whimper at the neglection before pressing his lips together, turning his face farther into the pillow. Misaki rose, slowly pulling his softening member from Saruhiko and causing him to bite his lip to remain quiet at the loss. The raven remained the position for a moment, gathering his own breath and dreading the thought that Misaki was going to leave him like this. But then, he heard a simple order.

  "Turn over."

  Slowly, Saruhiko did as told, clenching his jaw at the ache in his ass and lower spine as he rested his weight on them. He sat tense, eyes locking onto Misaki's as they descended toward the awaiting length. His eyes widened as those lips encircled the leaking head, feeling a tongue drag across his slit and along his shaft as he moved down. A shutter ran through him, shaking the moan that escaped his lips as his head tilted back in ecstasy. His fingers couldn't help but rise to the brunet's head, threading into his chestnut locks. He rose his head again to watch Misaki, not wanting to miss the rare sight of the boy sucking him off. Amber eyes met his own, watching him intently as his head moved up and down his length. Saruhiko's mouth fell open, breath interrupted by whimpers and moans alike until he felt the familiar heat pooling in his stomach, and with a few twitches he came harshly in Misaki's mouth. His hand kept him down, though there was no resistance as Misaki swallowed, throat constricting around him and milking him for all he was worth. By the time his lips finally popped off Saruhiko had lost all will to move, though his lidded, hazy eyes watched carefully as Misaki's tongue darted out to catch what spilled from his lip. Their gazes remained locked until the brunet had finished, and if it weren't for the fact that Saruhiko was damn near ready to pass out he might have thought they could have gone for another round.

  Alas, unconsciousness was already tugging at the edges of his vision, and he watched in a daze as Misaki mouthed something, he wasn't sure what, and moved in to kiss him. The last thing he remembered was a gentle, wet pressure against his lips, a soft movement he couldn't recall from any of their other kisses. But he didn't have the will to ponder it, for sleep was calling to him and the morning awaited his despair.

 

  And despair he did. When he awoke the next morning he had expected the lack of warmth in the bed, but the fact that he faced it every morning after did nothing to stop the tears that welled in his eyes and refused to be blinked away. The pillow bore the burden as it did every other time, and just as the night before he did nothing to stifle his voice. Except this time, it wasn't cries of pleasure but wails of suffering that reverberated against those walls. Sounds that echoed the new cracks appearing in his heart, the torture of realization cascading through his mind.

  Because this was all they were. They were nothing. They fucked and moved on, no strings attached, no kind gestures, nothing. They couldn't even be called lovers. Because this was a relationship built on hate, no "bridges" to speak for but more rather raging rivers that defied any attempt at crossing them. Saruhiko was caught smack in the middle of those vicious currents, Misaki standing on the shore with the rope he was busy unraveling. And his screams were drowned out by the rushing water, his desperate flailing gone unseen by distracted amber eyes. He was sinking, drowning in the rivers he cried every morning, but Misaki couldn't see his pain _because he wasn't looking at him_.

  And he would never look at him again.

**Author's Note:**

> -Casually throws self off a cliff- by e


End file.
